Never Forget
by CupcakeSprinkles14
Summary: For peetape: Cato has had a crush on Peeta ever since they became room-mates but has never had the courage to admit it. When Peeta hits his head one day and loses his memory, Cato lies and pretends that they're together and deeply in love. He knows it can't last and he will have to come clean sooner or later but little does he know, this was going to happen sooner rather than later


**Never Forget**

**For peetape**

_Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump._

Cato timed it perfectly so his head bumped against the wall in sync with the headboard in the next room.

_Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump._

The first time it was amusing. The second it was still novel. The third a little annoying. The fourth repetitive. Fifth goddamn irritating. But this was now the sixth time, and Cato was practically giving himself a concussion. If he stopped and listened hard enough, he would be able to make out pleasured moans and soft gasps. Why couldn't they just go to Marvel's place instead of here? The question still eluded him. He was one more bump away from losing his mind. Maybe, if he smacked his forehead against the wall hard enough, he could knock himself out and he wouldn't have to listen to it anymore.

Cato's room-mate, Peeta, had been dating Marvel for a few months now. They had an annoyingly active sex life, which took place in their apartment at least three quarters of the time they do it. It wasn't that Cato didn't like Marvel, he just . . . didn't care for him. Peeta deserved better than some cheap shot who gives Burger King vouchers for Valentine's Day and had a long list of unsuccessful relationships with other guys. What Peeta saw in the guy was a mystery to Cato.

Eventually, the headboard bumping died down. Cato was thankful, letting his head fall back onto the pillow again. An ache was beginning to stretch across the circumference of his brain, taking hold and wrangling it to the point of excruciating pain. He could hear murmurs in the other room, after-sex conversation probably, but at least it wasn't as announciated as the headboard of Peeta's bed was.

Thankfully, sleep eventually found him.

Cato woke up to screaming. It took a while for things began to process in his brain, to break through the abyss of sleep and wake, but when he did, he recognized the voice as Peeta's. He sat up, rubbing his eyes tiredly, and opened the door just in time for him to catch Marvel slamming the door shut behind him. Cato was about to step out of the room when Peeta stormed past, almost knocking him over, and threw the door open.

"Hey asshole, you forgot your mobile!" he yelled, chucking what looked like an expensive iphone down the hall at Marvel. Cato winced when he heard a distinctive smash of the impact of the technology against what sounded like a wall.

Peeta stormed back in and slammed the door shut again, his features calm but his attitude smouldering. Cato followed him into the kitchen, still trying to clear his head from the odd wake-up call he'd just received. "Do I want to know?" he asked.

His room-mate shook his head in disgust, yanking the fridge door open and pulling out a carton of orange juice. Cato winced as he slammed it onto the kitchen islet, expecting the thing to crumple or rip open. "You might as well, since you were right about the dickhead all along," Peeta said.

"Well, what happened?" Cato sat down on one of the stools by the islet, resting his elbow on it and propping his chin on his hand. Peeta slammed two glasses down onto the bench, the sound of the glass making impact with the marble making Cato jump a little. Angry Peeta was someone you didn't want to cross, especially tired angry Peeta. Cato frowned and glanced at the clock. What time was it anyway? Six in the morning. Wow. Some serious shit must have went down.

"I woke up this morning," Peeta began to explain, tearing the lid off the orange carton and chucking it behind him, "expecting to see Marvel beside me. Instead, I find him sitting at my desk, texting some other guy."

Despite the fact he didn't care for the guy, Cato couldn't see what was wrong with this. "Are you sure it wasn't just a misunderstanding?" he asked.

Peeta glared at him with a stare that made him wish to retract his statement. "He was spending whoever the hell it was nude pictures of me, Cato," he said in a low voice.

Oh. Alright, that was bad.

Peeta shook his head, pushing one of the two glasses towards Cato. Some of the orange juice spilled over the lip of the glass, splattering the counter. "I don't even care," he muttered. "I don't know why I ever gave a damn about him in the first place. It's ridiculous. I mean, the sex was good but that doesn't give the foundation for a healthy relationship now, does it? I don't know why it took me so long to figure that out."

"It's okay, Peeta," said Cato. "Marvel's a moron. If he didn't know how to respect you then he doesn't deserve to have you."

The younger of the two laughed, downing the orange juice in one and slamming the glass back down on the counter. Cato tried not to let the fact that Peeta didn't believe him when discussing things such as this, when he tried to tell him how good a guy he was. Maybe it was just in his nature not to see when someone was sending him subliminal messages. It made sense, since he had only been able to tell that Marvel liked him because the guy had be upfront and blunt about it.

Naviety was one of Peeta's most discerning traits.

And most annoying. Since, ever since they had started sharing the apartment, Peeta had been incapable of seeing the obvious. The obvious being that Cato liked him. And not just the casual 'like', as in the playground _like_ like. Meaning that if it hadn't been for his relationship with Marvel, Cato would have asked Peeta out long ago.

"I'm done with men," Peeta muttered, sitting across from Cato at the islet.

"You've only been in a relationship with one person," said Cato carefully.

"And it was enough to last me a life time," Peeta answered. He drew patterns in the spilled juice, staring at the islet with a fixated frown. "I'm better off being a single pringle."

Despite the situation, Cato snickered. "Single pringle," he repeated. "Right."

Peeta smiled. His finger still drifted lazily through the orange juice. "In any other situation I'd say single pringle ready to mingle but now I'm not so sure. I doubt it matters any more," he muttered.

_Well, it does, if you could just see that Marvel wasn't the only one interested._ Cato sighed and grabbed a tea towel, swiping it across the islet to clean up the orange juice. "I never liked him anyway," he said.

This made Peeta laugh. Cato loved the sound, it was like elegant music. "I'm sorry, honestly I am, I doubt it's been much fun for you. I only noticed this morning how the headboard rattles against the wall."

Cato waved him off dismissively. Even though his head still hurt from banging it against the wall to drive out the sound of that infernal headboard, Cato would never tell Peeta that it had bothered him. If Marvel had have confronted him about it, he would have had no bother saying that it was annoying. But Peeta? He'd never do it.

He cared too much about him to do that.

A few days later, Peeta decided to get rid of any and every thing that belonged to or was given to him by Marvel. It was an impulsive decision but one he was sticking too. Cato helped, deciding that it was better than just standing by and watching. He held the black bag while his room-mate ranted about each and every item he chucked.

"That bear was bought as an I'm sorry gift when I caught him looking at nude pictures of his old boyfriend," Peeta said, throwing a tatty teddy into the black bag. "I should have predicted it, I should have seen it coming. Inside I fell into his arms again like the crazy tit I am."

"Aw, come on, you're not a tit," said Cato. Peeta rolled his eyes and threw a paper weight into the bag. It smashed on impact with the bottom and Peeta grinned in satisfaction.

"Paper weight, because apparently my room was too messy for his liking and I should keep my papers in order," he said. Cato rolled his eyes. Marvel had always been an arrogant prick. Peeta gathered a bunch of photographs into his arms and dumped them all as well, the pictures sliding down the junk in the bag and gathering at the bottom.

One stayed balanced ontop of the tatty teddy's head. Marvel was in the picture but that wasn't what captured Cato's attention. It was Peeta standing beside him, captured mid-laugh. Marvel's arm was around his waist, the touch causing a deep blush to stain Peeta's cheeks. He was smiling, looking beautiful as ever, blue eyes alight with that curious gleam they always have.

Cato reached int the bag and swiped the photo off the teddy so it was added to the pile of others. Peeta threw more things into the bag, ranting with increasing passion. Cato watched avidly, as every item fell broke or fell apart on impact. "Why was Marvel even sending nude pictures of you to some guy anyway?"

Peeta laughed. It was dry, like stones being ground together. "Oh, you mean his reasoning? His reasoning was rich. He told me that it was some guy he met on Greg's list or something who wanted to know what I looked like."

"Why would he care what you looked like?" asked Cato.

Peeta shook his head, disgusted. "Hell if I know. I didn't give him a chance to explain before I kicked him out. God, I can't believe I didn't see this coming. I'm such an idiot." He turned around and punched the wall, making everything rattle in the room.

The shelves that were built to hover above Peeta's desk shook, the nails coming loose. Cato just remembered that he had to tighten the screws as they fell out completely and the shelves fell off the wall. From the very top shelf, along with everything else that had sat ontop, a trophy slid off the wood and fell.

The trophy dropped directly ontop of Peeta's head, landing with a very loud thump. Cato's eyes widened as the trophy landed on the floor. "Oh my god, are you okay?!"

Peeta lifted his hand to touch the back of his head. He winced and when he pulled his hand back, it was coated in blood. Cato felt sick. He stepped forward, unsure about what to do exactly. Peeta's hand shook a little and his eyes crossed before rolling behind his head as he passed out.

Cato lurched forward and caught him, falling to his knees and holding Peeta's head steady as he checked over the wound. A large gash had been ripped open at the back of his head, tangling his hair together with sticky blood. "Shit," Cato muttered. "Shit, shit, shitty, shit, shit." He laid Peeta down on the ground and ran out to the hall, where he grabbed the landline phone and rang 911.

~xXx~

"He hit his head pretty hard but he should be alright," the doctor explained. Cato kept glancing nervously into through the observation glance at Peeta. He looked so small and vulnerable, lying asleep on the pure white hospital bed. The wound on the back of his head was cleaned and stitched up, some of his beautiful blond hair having to be cut up so the cut could be accessed. "There may also be some amnesia but it shouldn't be too severe. I'd say he got lucky. We'll keep him in over night just to be safe and you can collect him in the morning."

That night was the hardest night Cato had ever experienced. Sleep eluded him. He had never had to stay alone in the apartment without knowing about how Peeta was doing. He would even hope for the headboard rattling over the painful silence that burned his ears that night. The thought of Peeta, his Peeta, the Peeta he had spent years sharing an apartment with, might lose his memory over one simple outburst.

The next morning, Cato immediately went to the hospital to pick Peeta up. He had expected to find him in the same condition as the previous day, lying in bed, unconscious, but instead he was sitting up, looking around, swinging his feet back and forth as the bed was a bit too high for his height.

"Peeta!" Cato rushed to the boy's side and said, "Peeta, are you alright, can you remember anything? Do you remember me?"

Peeta stared at him with wide eyes. He smiled. "No, should I?"

Cato's heart flipped and an ill sensation washed over him. He felt extremely dizzy but he managed to keep his feet planted firmly on the floor. "Peeta, it's me, Cato."

"Cato," Peeta said slowly, as if tasting the word for the first time. His eyes found Cato's again and he frowned. "Who are you to me, Cato?"

Suddenly, an opportunity pushed itself forward into Cato's mind. He stared at Peeta for about a minute and a half, just taking in his beautiful face. From the blue eyes, to the long lashes, pink lips, defined jawline. All of it. "I'm your boyfriend," he blurted out before he could stop himself.

Peeta blinked, a confused expression flickering across his face. "Boyfriend," he repeated.

Cato frowned for a moment, confused himself. "Yes, boyfriend," he confirmed. Peeta didn't respond for a moment. Oh god, since he couldn't remember anything, was he going to reject him?

"Oh," Peeta finally said, scratching the back of his head. "Okay."

Wait, what?

He believed him?

Cato tried to not show his surprise on his face. It wouldn't be very ethical if he looked shocked when Peeta accepted that he was his boyfriend. But, if he did accept this so easy, did that mean he was attracted to him too?

Could he? Would he? No . . . Oh . . . He must be.

Whoa. That's heavy.

"So, how long have we been dating?"

They were walking through the hospital car park to get out onto the sidewalk. Every so often, Peeta would pick at the cut on his head and Cato had to slap his hands away before he ripped open the stitches.

"Three years," Cato answered, surprised at how easily the answer came to him.

Peeta's steps had a little spring to them and every so often he'd hum. For someone who got clobbered with a wrestling trophy, he was doing quite a good job of being upbeat. "How did we meet?" he asked.

Well, that was an easy one. "I put an ad in the paper, renting out the spare room in my apartment. I had seen many people and you were the last person I was due to interview. From the moment I saw you, I knew I wanted you to be my room-mate. I didn't really care about whether you snored, were messy or . . . had a rattly headboard . . . you were the guy I wanted."

Peeta was silent. The sun was making his hair glimmer like it was on fire, casting shadows across his face. He didn't seem sure how to answer, playing with his fingers in an unsettled manner. "Really?" he asked.

"Yeah," said Cato. At least he wasn't lying this time, they were his exact feelings when he first laid eyes on Peeta. "Your hair had been in this comb-over that would have looked ridiculous on someone else but framed your face perfectly."

Peeta tried to touch the back of his head again, probably to brush his fingertips through his hair. Cato took his hand and moved it away from his head. Never having had the honour to hold the younger boy's hand before, Cato found himself closing his fingers around it and holding it between them so they were walking up the pavement hand in hand. Peeta didn't protest or pull his hand away, in fact his fingers tightened around Cato's as they walked.

"The first thing you had said to me was 'is it just me or does your doorbell sound like a cat being murdered?'," Cato continued, unsure about why he wanted to talk about this so much. He guessed it was maybe because he had never been able to express himself so openly about how he felt towards Peeta before. "Your hands wouldn't leave your pockets, you were like this little creature who would blush at the smallest provocation."

Peeta sucked in his cheeks, furrowing his eyebrows in denial. But, contrary to his attitude, his cheeks were already turning pink. The sight made Cato smile.

"There it is," he teased.

"Shut up," Peeta mumbled, rubbing his cheek as if it would scratch the blush off. They entered the apartment building, went up the stairs and entered their apartment. Peeta looked around, seeming in awe of the place as if it were a palace. "So, if we're together, why do we sleep in bedrooms right beside each other?" he asked, pointing at the bedroom doors.

"Um, we don't," Cato said. "We share a bed in my room." _Damnit Hadley, you're going to have to quit and come clean soon._

Peeta popped his head around the door of his room. "Why's all my stuff in this room, then?"

"You recognize your stuff?" asked Cato.

A pause.

"Yeah."

Weird, Cato thought he hadn't remembered anything. Damn, now he was going to have to come up with something convincing. "You haven't gotten round to moving your stuff into the room yet. We only came to the decision to sleep in the same room at the beginning of this year."

Peeta pulled back from the room and nodded. He wandered into Cato's room, a place he rarely went. Not because he didn't want to, there was just never a reason for him to do so. "Whoa, this place is a mess." Cato followed him in and cringed at the state of the place.

"Yeah, sorry about that."

Peeta sat on Cato's bed and crossed his legs. He smiled brightly, lighting up the entire room with it. "So," he said, "have we . . . ?"

Not wanting to come off as a prude, Cato nodded. "Oh yeah, plenty of times," he said. Peeta raised his eyebrows. "I'm serious," Cato pressed.

"Who tops?"

"Uh . . . me."

"Have I never topped?"

"You're not the topping type." Cato found his mind wandering, to some of the inappropriate fantasties he sometimes experienced about his room-mate. "You've always had a desire to be dominanted by someone stronger than you, to be stripped to your barest self, vulnerable at the hands of your lover . . ."

Peeta shivered. He chewed on his thumbnail in deep thought. "And you're that lover?" he said.

"Yes," Cato said. It was nice to pretend, even if it was just for a little while, that they were a real couple.

"Did you have anyone, before me?"

"Just a drunken experience in high school that took my viriginity but I don't count that," Cato explained.

The younger blond nodded. "What was our first date?"

Cato smiled, a fond memory coming to mind. He had thought about this long and hard for a very long time. "Well, I took you out to the Hob-that's the fancy resturaunt at Capitol shore, if you can't remember-and then we spend hours out on the beach, watching the sunset-because sunset orange is your favourite colour-and lay on the sand, counting the stars until we realized it was getting extremely late."

Peeta had curled his knees up to his chest, his eyes wide, riveted with the story. "Then what happened?" he asked, his voice hushed and awed.

Cato thought about it, having gone through the story so many times in his head but not entirely sure about expressing the end out loud. "We made love for the first time." He watched Peeta carefully as he buried his face in his arms to hide a smile that was appearing on his face.

"I'd like to remember that," he said, his voice quiet.

Somehow, Cato's feet brought him to the bed, where he looked down on Peeta. Peeta looked up, his face innocent and oblvious. He scrambled to his knees on the bed, so their faces were inches apart. "I could help you remember," he murmured.

"You could," Peeta said, his voice low and gravelly.

The moment felt right. Cato placed a gentle hand on Peeta's waist and pressed their bodies together. Peeta pushed his hands up Cato's chest, his breathing getting laboured with anticipation. Cato's heart was racing, his blood was pounding in his ears. He couldn't believe this was happening, really. One more inch and their lips would be pressed together. They'd be kissing.

"How long, exactly, are you going to keep this charade going?" Peeta mumured, his hot breath brushing Cato's face.

Cato paused. "What?"

"Nothing, just kiss me."

Peeta pulled Cato towards him, closing the distance between them. Not only did sparks fly, but there was a full on explosion of heat that rushed through both boys. It is said that lips are the portal to the soul and Peeta's were delicious, supple and tender, so much so that Cato never wanted to stop kissing them. Their mouths moved in sync, parting for sparse milliseconds to gasp for breath before devouring each other again.

Lost in a passion-filled daze, hands started tugging at clothes, mouths wandering over exposed skin. Various fabrics were strewn over the floor as both were exposed to the relentless air of the room. Cato wished to touch every part of Peeta, his hands travelling over the boy's pale, silky skin.

Peeta buried his face into the crook of Cato's neck, pressing careful, delirious kisses against his collarbone while his hands explored and rubbed his back. Cato sighed and held the young boy against his body, enjoying every second of being able to be so close to him.

Their lips met in another hungry kiss as Cato lifted Peeta off the bed, lowering him onto his back on the mattress. Peeta opened his legs and wrapped them around Cato's waist, both releasing a shuddering gasp when their crotches met. Fuelled by lust and ecstasy, both pawed at each other and fed off one and another's moans and gasps.

Peeta suddenly pulled away, taking Cato's face in his hands and murmuring, "How long have you felt this way?"

Cato looked into Peeta eyes, searching them for a hint of amnesia or confusion. He found nothing. "I thought you couldn't remember anything . . ."

"I was being sarcastic," Peeta said. He tightened his arms around Cato, holding him as close as humanly possible. Their hearts beat together, in sync, pumping the affection they felt for each other around their bodies, filling them like a drug. "I can't believe you've been hiding this from me."

Peeta crushed their lips together, fisting Cato's hair in his hands. The older boy closed his eyes, not bothering to worry that Peeta had been pretending to not remember anything. All he needed right now was this moment.

Cato yelped when Peeta rolled them around so he was on top. "I'm not top material, am I?" he said in a low voice that sent jitters up Cato's being. "I'll show you top material." Without warning, Peeta pushed into Cato. Both groaned in unsion as pleasure immediately shivered up their spines. Cato had never bottomed before and it felt a little strange but not unpleasant either.

Peeta leaned forward and balanced his elbows on the pillow either side of Cato's head, focusing as hard as he could as he swivelled his hips and started thrusting in and out. Cato stretched up and licked the sweat off the younger boy's neck, making him falter and shudder.

Ironically, the headboard started bumping against the wall the closer to their climaxes they got. Peeta's thrusting grew erratic and violent, his arms giving up near the end so he fell ontop of Cato's torso. Glad to have him closer, Cato wound his arms around Peeta and held him together as they moved against each other.

"You should have told me," Peeta said through gritted teeth.

"How could I have?" replied Cato.

"I don't know," Peeta answered. "You should have just said. Because then I could have told you that I feel the exact same way."

Cato took a gentle hold of Peeta's chin and lifted his head so they were looking into each other's eyes. His heart was beating impossibly fast because he couldn't believe this was happening. "You do?"

Peeta nodded, face flushed. "I do."

Both climaxed together, the moment so perfect nothing would ever be able to replicate it again. It was a moment of pure bliss, where they unravelled and were truly exposed for who they are. It wasn't like cumming after having a good fuck, it was reaching the peak after making love for the first time.

They lay together after, a sweaty pile of tired limbs, not wanting it to ever end.

"I've never done that before," Peeta admitted. "Marvel always topped."

Cato stroked Peeta's hair, almost too lost in his own happiness to realize he had spoken. "You did really well," he said. "But if you don't mind, next time I'd rather top."

Peeta smirked to himself. "You think there's going to be a next time?" he asked.

Cato's heart sank a little. "Um, yeah?" he said.

His room-mate laughed. Cato was horrified. Had this only been a one off? "I do too," Peeta finally said.

Feeling relieved, Cato started to laugh too. "Why did you lie?" he asked. "You had me genuinely worried, you know."

"Oh, yeah, I could tell. You were pretty quick to say that you were my boyfriend," Peeta teased. He propped himself up on his elbows and raised an eyebrow. "All those things you said, were they true? About when we met and the comb-over and our first date?"

Cato shrugged sheepishly. "Would it be weird if I said yes?"

"Even when I was dating Marvel?"

"Especially when you were dating Marvel."

A genuine smile crossed Peeta's face and he touched Cato's face gently. "You should have just said," he said.

"You're saying it like it's easy."

Peeta sighed and kissed Cato softly. Cato closed his eyes, unable to fully comprehend that he was actually kissing the boy he had had a crush on for three years now. "Well, you have me now," Peeta declared when he pulled away.

The words brought a grin to Cato's face. "I guess I do," he said.

"But there is a matter to attend to," Peeta said, sitting upright on the bed. "If I had actually lost my memory, you would have really been lying to me, which is unacceptable."

Cato quirked an eyebrow. "Is it?"

Peeta nodded. "I think you need to be punished," he purred.

Cato laughed and tugged Peeta back down ontop of him, throwing the comforter over their heads so they were no longer exposed to the spying eyes of the four walls surrounding them.

Things were going to be just fine.

**A/N: If you want a one-shot written, just PM me with an outline of the idea. I've came up with some questions I'd like to come with each request:**

**Name of One shot:**

**Synopsis:**

**Rating:**

**If Rating M, smut or no smut:**

**Happy or sad ending:**

**I'd love to hear from some of you guys and hear some of your ideas! (:**


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